


Pre-Slipped Sideways Oneshots

by Romiress



Series: MTBAF Side Stories [1]
Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham Knight Genesis (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Oneshot Compilation, Tags in Individual Chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 06:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: A collection of oneshots set in the MTBAF universe, all of which take place before Slipped Sideways. They're intended to fill in some gaps for the first four parts. Every chapter has its own tags in the chapter notes.





	1. Index

**Chapter Two:** Set after Bury Our Sons, but before We Don't Raise Heroes. Features Jason and a new side character.

 **Chapter Three:** Set after Chapter Two. Features Jason, Slade, and three side characters.

 **Chapter Four:** Set after Don't Call it Revenge chapter 37, during Jason's recovery. Features Jason, Slade, and Bruce.

 **Chapter Five:** Set during Skipped a Few Steps' final chapter. Features Bruce, Slade, and mentions of others.

 **Chapter Six:** Set during Skipped a Few Steps' final chapter. Features Bruce, Slade, and William Wintergreen.

 **Chapter Seven:** Set two years before We Don't Raise Heroes. Features Slade and Cullen.

 **Chapter Eight:** Set during the epilogue of Skipped a Few Steps. Features Jason and Amina.

 **Chapter Nine:** Set after the epilogue of Skipped a Few Steps. Features Jason, Amanda Waller, and Rose Worth.


	2. Jason Gets Stabbed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Bury Our Sons, but before We Don't Raise Heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features: Jason Todd and a side character you've never heard of.  
> Warnings for: Light medical gore, badly done medical explanations, canon-typical injury.

Of all the things that could have happened within his first month of taking the cowl, this had to be one of the worst. No, no one was dead. Yes, Gotham was still in one piece. But it had taken a lot of time and effort to convince everyone that he was ready. That he could handle not just doing things, but doing things  _ properly. _

Living with Bruce meant  _ doing things properly _ was a very fancy synonym for  _ doing things without anyone winding up dead. _

Jason wasn't really sold on the whole  _ murder is always wrong _ deal (and Slade certainly wasn't), but he at least understood the general idea when it came to Batman. Batman didn't kill. It was one of the rules. A universal constant in a city that had been so plagued by crime and criminals so monstrous they could barely be considered human beings.

So he was sticking with it.

Which was probably why he was in his current situation, depending on how you looked at it. If he'd had a gun, the guy who'd stabbed him would be dead, and he wouldn't have gotten stabbed.

He doubted Bruce was going to agree with him. No, Bruce was probably going to look at his injury, grunt, and say something like  _ This is just a sign you need more time to prepare yourself. _

Never mind that it wasn't a matter of training. No, it was just a simple, stupid mistake: He hadn't  _ quite _ latched the suit into place. He'd got one latch on, ran out the door, and never quite finished latching the second that connected the top to the bottom. Which was fine, ninety-nine times out of one hundred.

Except right then was the one hundredth time. The one hundredth time where he'd run into enough mooks to make him work up a sweat fighting them, gotten maybe a smidge too cocky, and taken a knife to the side.

Which would have been fine.

Except for the latch.

So instead of glancing off his suit the knife had caught right at the edge, plunged about an inch in, and only  _ then _ had he managed to punch the guy in the face and bring an end to the fight.

It wasn't a lethal blow. Not even close. Jason wouldn't have even described it as a serious blow. But it was dripping a fair amount of blood that was pooling in the sole of the batsuit, and when he'd checked he'd decided that yeah, that probably was going to need stitches.

He didn't want stitches. The idea of going back to Bruce and Slade and saying  _ okay I might have screwed up, now stitch me up _ was so far beyond what he was willing to accept it wasn't even funny. Right then? He was pretty sure bleeding out was a superior option.

His  _ first _ thought had been to drive up to Bludhaven and get Dick to deal with it. He could be trusted to keep his mouth shut. But if the suit went outside his usual patrol route, it'd set off an alarm, and Bruce and Slade would be after him to make sure he was alright. So whenever he had to go was going to have to be in Gotham.

Which was how he'd ended up at one of the Wayne Outreach clinics. It wasn't the home office (that was staffed twenty-four-seven), but it  _ was _ well stocked. The lights were all off, and Jason parked the bike around back, using his emergency override to bypass the clinic's security.

The cameras all started looping in unison, and Jason was able to walk right in. If he was lucky, he'd be able to leave with absolutely no sign he'd been there at all.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd stitched himself up, and if he twisted he could get a clear view of the injury. The clinic wasn't very big, so he cut through the waiting room, heading into the back of the building to find the supplies he needed. Maybe staples would be easier...?

He didn't trust himself with the staple gun. Probably couldn't twist his hand around much easier. And actually juts sewing himself up seemed like a safer, steadier option. He double checked the cameras weren't recording, peeled his cowl off, and then settled down on an examination bench, peeling the top of the batsuit open to get a good look at the wound.

Not too deep. Definitely needed stitches. And-

Jason's head snapped up the moment he heard sound, his eyes flicking  _ right _ to the woman standing in the doorway. She had an honest to god baseball bat clutched in her hands, and her eyes were wide and alarmed, and she was staring  _ right _ at him.

Right at him, batsuit open, his face and half his torso exposed. Right at him, with the  _ goddamn cowl _ a foot away.

Fuck.

Maybe she didn't recognize him?

"Boss?" She said, torpedoing that before he could even get his hopes up.

Bruce was going to kill him. Bruce had worked in Gotham for  _ how long _ without anyone accidentally stumbling onto his identity, and now Jason had blow that in  _ barely even a month. _

It wasn't like he could play it off. It wasn't like he could pretend he was going to a costume party with a knife wound to his side. He  _ very _ vaguely recognized the woman (wasn't she a nurse?), but not well enough to know anything about her that might have helped him get her to stay quiet about what she'd just walked in on...

Speaking of which.

"Isn't the clinic supposed to be closed?" Jason asks, and starts to just go about his business. It's something Slade  _ and _ Bruce are good at, just acting nonchalant while they've been caught with their metaphorical pants down. 

"We are," she says, and when Jason looks her over he realizes that she does, in fact, appear to be in pajamas.

Which doesn't make sense. There shouldn't be anyone in the building, let alone someone in pajamas with a baseball bat.

"Are you sleeping here?"

The woman goes several shades paler all at once, the baseball bat abruptly lowering as she swallows. Jason decides he can work with that.

"I... I am, yeah," she says, and Jason can  _ definitely _ work with that. "Are you Batman?" She asks.

"Sure am," Jason says. "So it seems like we're both somewhere we shouldn't be."

She sets the bat aside, looking slightly less nervous, and steps forward.

"Are you... about to give yourself stitches?"

Jason already has the stuff all ready, the needle already in hand, and he gives her a withering look.

"What does it look like?" He says.

"I mean," she says, seeming less nervous by the second. "You could just let me do it. Self-surgery doesn't exactly have the best results, even if it's just stitches."

Jason holds the needle out to her, and she steps forward, taking it from him. She's  _ definitely _ a nurse, or maybe a medical student? She's something for sure, because she has skilled, steady hands as she checks and cleans the wound, starting to stitch him up.

"Wow," she says under her breath as she works. "Are you... uh, on drugs?"

Jason squints at her. What kind of a question is that?

"No," he says. "Why would I be on drugs? And why would that be an appropriate question to ask your boss?"

"One," she says, "you're not my boss right now. Pretty sure this is a firmly off the clock bit of medical care. Two, you have like... absolutely no reaction to the fact that I'm stitching you up. Lots of people need painkillers for this. Is that the Batman secret?"

"No," Jason says, frustrated with himself that he's giving so much away. "It's just a me thing."

"I can see that," she says, eyes sweeping across the scars visible on his half-bare chest.

Jason did what he could to cover up, which wasn't much, and she averted her eyes, focusing on the stitching.

"It's not bad," she says, finishing up. "Pretty minor. You shouldn't strain it-"

"I know," he says. "I've had stitches before."

Not all of them for injuries, either.

"So," she says after a long pause, starting to clean up the supplies, "are we going to talk about... whatever this is? You being Batman?"

"The fact that you're sleeping in a clinic?" Jason fires back.

"How about we call this even," she says. "You don't say anything about where I'm spending my nights, and I won't say anything about the fact that you spend your nights beating up criminals."

Jason rolls his eyes behind her back. Why is it always 'beating up criminals' that everyone's mind goes to?

"Why are you sleeping in the clinic, exactly?"

_ That _ makes her uncomfortable. It's obvious in the way she suddenly hunches, shoulders coming in defensively.

"I'm still in school," she says, "and my grades weren't up to par, so my mom kicked me out. Said I could come back when my grades were up."

So she's... what, a med student? Jason isn't even slightly familiar with how all that works, but it doesn't exactly matter.

"Wouldn't a shelter be better...?" Jason asks, and she laughs.

"That'd be weird, wouldn't it? Staying at an Outreach shelter while I'm positioned here for school?"

Jason weighs his options. What would Slade do? Well, Slade would probably make  _ sure _ she didn't ruin things, so Slade probably isn't the best person to think about.

What would Bruce do? Probably something excessive.

"How about," Jason says, "Wayne Outreach puts you up while you finish your schooling, and in exchange you don't ditch Gotham like so many med students do. How about you come work for us after."

Jason has no idea if he can actually promise that. He figures he  _ probably _ can, but he does know that Michael was complaining not all too long ago that getting doctors to stay in Gotham is difficult. Maybe a grant or something...

"Are you buying me off?" She says pointedly.

Jason grins at her.

"Depends on if it's going to work."

Thankfully, the joke lands, and she lets out a short laugh. She's around his age, he figures, and she offers a hand to him.

"Amina Franklin," she says. "I go to Gotham University."

He reaches out, giving her hand a quick shake.

"Jason Todd. I... am Batman, I guess."

"You guess?" She says with a laugh. "You're not sure?"

"It's new," he admits. "I'm adjusting."

He makes a point of zipping the suit back up. He's going to have to clean it out when he gets back to the cave, but he can manage that without anyone else noticing now that he's stitched up.

"Do you not have someone who... you know, can provide medical care?" She asks, looking increasingly skeptical as she folds her arms over her chest.

"We do," Jason says, "but that would mean admitting I let myself get stabbed, and I'd rather avoid that."

Amina rolls her eyes and says something under her breath that sounds a lot like  _ idiots. _

"Well," she says, "how about next time you get stabbed, you give me a call?"

"Does that extend to bullet wounds?"

"Are you planning to get shot?"

Jason wiggles his hand.

"I'm leaving my options open."

She laughs at that too.

"I'll extend it to bullet wounds," she says. "No burns though, those are nasty."

"Agreed," Jason says, pulling the cowl on. "I'll get someone to talk to you about that housing grant," he says. "Might take a few days. If anyone hassles you about being here, say it was the bosses orders."

"I'll keep that in mind," she says. "Now if you don't mind? I'm going back to sleep. I've got a test in the morning."

"Good luck with that," Jason says.

He leaves the way he came, and he's good to his word. Amina Franklin ends up the first recipient of the Wayne Enterprises Young Doctors Housing Grant.

Despite his wishes, Jason ends up slinking back to her not even three weeks later to make sure he doesn't have a concussion. He suspects Alfred knows he's getting medical help elsewhere, but Bruce and Slade?

Totally oblivious.


	3. Slade Gets the Drop on Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set a few months after Chapter 2 (Jason Gets Stabbed).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features: Slade Wilson, Jason Todd, and three short cameos.  
> Warnings for: No warnings to speak of.

All things considered, Slade thought it was kind of cute that Jason thought he could hide things from him.

He thought it would probably be a lot cuter if Jason was ten, but no, instead he was a fully grown adult who thought he could hide things from  _ Slade Wilson. _

For someone so smart, Jason could be awfully dumb.

Which was why Slade was there at the coffee shop, getting a mocha he had no plans of drinking that cost way more than it should have. He takes his drink, turns around, and-

"Jason!" He calls, and Jason immediately goes stiff, shoulders hunching as if he was hoping that maybe, if he just stayed still, Slade wouldn't notice that he was there.

Slade had definitely noticed. Slade had known he was going to be there long before he'd even come into the coffee shop. Of course he was playing the whole thing as if it was a total coincidence, and he just  _ happened _ to be in the area, but that was beside the point.

Not willing to give Jason false hope, Slade slides right up to Jason, settles a hand on his shoulder, and beams at Jason's little cluster of friends.

"Who are your friends?" Slade says, smile wide and  _ almost _ friendly.

Slade is aware he's not exactly the best at looking approachable. It's the eyepatch. And the build. Really, it's a lot of things. There's only so much he can do to make himself  _ not _ look like he's going to murder everyone in the room, but he's done all of them, so it's the thought that counts.

Michael isn't there, which isn't entirely unusual, but there  _ are _ three (in theory, but not in actuality) new faces there. A young woman, her frizzy hair pulled up in a bun, staring at him as if she's trying to figure out who he is. A slightly older girl with a no-nonsense look, and then a slightly younger young man with more than a passing similarity to the girl at his side.

Jason looks like he's trying to vanish on the spot.

"No one-" He starts, and Slade cuts him off.

"Now Jason," Slade says, grinning to show his teeth, "that's not very nice, is it?"

"Slade," Jason hisses, "you are killing me here."

"Then spare yourself the pain and do introductions," Slade says with a laugh.

Neither girl seems to know what to make of him, and the boy won't even look at him.

"Amina, Harper, and Cullen," Jason says rapidfire. "Shouldn't you be at home?"

Slade gives the hand on Jason's shoulder a little squeeze.

"Nope," he says. "So which one's the one who's been stitching you up?"

The one named Harper keeps her cool, but the other girl looks like she'd rather be anywhere but there, which gives Slade his answer.

"She is a  _ med student,"  _ Jason hisses. "Please tell me you didn't tell Bruce."

"I did not," Slade says, "but you're going to buy my silence with  _ proper _ introductions."

Slade already knows who they all are—Bruce is hardly the only paranoid one—but he lets Jason introduce them as if he doesn't.

"That's Amina Franklin. She's got an internship with us in our medical department," Jason says. "Harper's an electrician at our home office, and her brother Cullen."

Cullen is  _ definitely _ not meeting his eyes. There's a lot of reasons for that, and Slade mentally ticks down them. Maybe he'll find out later.

Harper, on the other hand, is.

"Are you going to tell us who this is, Jay?" She says, shooting Slade a skeptical look, eyes lingering on the eyepatch.

Jason goes from  _ surely _ to  _ horrifically embarrassed _ very quickly.

"This is my..." He starts, sparing a quick glance up. "Father."

"Bruce Wayne?" Amina asks, baffled.

Slade doesn't bother to stop himself from laughing at that.

"Oh god no," he says. "Not even close."

"My other dad," Jason says quickly. "Bruce doesn't know-" He pauses, then squints up at Slade. "-and won't know we were having this meeting."

This meeting of his little band of co-conspirators, helping Jason cover for things at work. His own personal Lucius Fox and co.

Only younger, obviously. Cullen's the youngest, but Harper can't be long out of highschool either.

"Wait," Cullen says with a squint. "You have two dads?"

He spares a glance up to Slade before his gaze drops right back down.

"Two and a sperm donor," Jason says. "It's a thing. Don't ask."

"Your home life is a disaster," Amina says. "I've seen diagnostic manuals less complex."

"Don't remind me," Jason groans.

Slade pats Jason on the shoulder, straightening up as he takes a sip from his absolutely disgusting mocha.

"Well," he says, "I should get going. Good to meet you kids, and take care of Jason for me."

Jason swats his hand away, and Slade knows he's going to hear all about it when Jason gets home that night.

"Uhm," Amina says. "Bye?"

"Bye Jason's dad," says Harper, joined very quickly by a nod from her brother.

Slade flashes them a grin, gives a quick wave, and heads out.

Oh, he's  _ definitely _ never going to hear the end of this.


	4. Jason Should Be in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Don't Call it Revenge chapter 37, during Jason's recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, and Slade Wilson  
> Warnings for: General recovery after serious injury.

Jason is going insane.

He's been through a lot in his life, but the idea of lying in bed for another month the way the doctor's instructed him sounds impossible. He doesn't do sitting still. He wants to be doing something. And the fact that every part of his body aches so badly that even  _ his _ pain tolerance can't keep up with that does nothing to dissuade him.

He's been out of bed a few times, but only under heavy supervision, with Slade and Bruce hovering around him. So he  _ knows _ he can make it, just as long as he's very quiet and very careful.

He eases himself onto his feet, stopping to listen every few seconds to make sure there's no telltale pounding of feet coming up the stairs. He just needs to stretch. Just needs to... to do something. To get up. He has books at his disposal, but only ones he's already read, and his eReader is just down the hall.

He  _ could _ just ask to get it, but he doesn't want to. He wants to get it himself.

He makes it out of his room and halfway down the hall before his legs really start trembling. Before he starts wondering if maybe, just maybe, this was a bad idea. His lungs feel like they're burning, and the muscles in his legs feel ready to buckle at any moment as he leans heavily against the wall. He can't make it. It's maybe another ten feet, but it's taking all his effort just to stay upright.

Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes and he lets out a noise of frustration.

Fuck. He can't make it. Ten feet and he can't-

"Jason?" Bruce asks from somewhere behind him, and then Bruce is suddenly  _ there. _

"Don't touch me," Jason says, swatting his hand away, but even that little bit of motion is too much. His right leg buckles, and he's already starting to fall when Bruce catches him around the waist, taking his weight.

Jason lets out a sob of frustration.

He expects Bruce to yell. To call for Alfred, or maybe for Slade. But instead he's silent, his face a look of intense concentration as he stares down at Jason as if he's a puzzle to be solved.

"Where were you going?" Bruce finally asks after what seems like forever. He shifts, slipping his arm across Jason's back and under his arm, letting him hold at least some of his own weight. It's a slightly more dignified position, and Jason appreciates that.

"I just -" Jason starts, but getting the words out seems difficult. How is he supposed to explain the frustration? Bruce's own hospitalization was nothing by comparison. He was in and out in the blink of an eye, with only some bandages to be tended to. He didn't need help for everything. He doesn't still need help just to go to the goddamn  _ bathroom. _

In a rare moment of insight, Bruce seems to understand even without Jason managing to vocalize it. He's careful as he does it, taking weight he probably shouldn't be, but he helps Jason hobble over to his room. He cracks the door open, helps Jason inside, and then carefully eases Jason onto his bed.

It's not really a viable option in the long term. The room's layout means it's a longer drip to the bathroom, and the bedroom itself is farther from help if he needs it. The bed's also much larger, which is great when Jason wants to spread out and awful for when he needs someone to change his bandages.

But it feels better to be in his bed.

He reaches over, fishing his eReader off the nightstand, and cradles it to his chest. He's already preparing a  _ It's not just about the eReader _ to Bruce's inevitable  _ You could have asked, _ but to his intense surprise it doesn't come. Bruce is still staring at him with that overly intense, broody look, but he isn't speaking. Just... watching.

Slade finds them almost a half hour later, a scowl already on his face.

"Did you let him out of bed?" Slade asks immediately. "The doctor said-"

"The doctor doesn't know all the experimental treatments we have," Bruce says. "He could manage a short trip to his own room."

Slade does not look convinced. Slade looks  _ very _ firmly not convinced.

"It's fine," Jason says, pushing himself upright. "I can make it back."

"I'm carrying you," Slade says.

"Absolutely not," Jason says, bristling at the idea. "I'm not a child-"

"I carry people all the time," Slade says. "I carried Bruce that way. If his dignity can survive it, so can yours."

Bruce winces, and Jason's pretty sure that he didn't remember being carried that way at all.

Jason tries to stand, but the moment he puts any pressure on his legs they threaten collapse. There's no way he's making it out of his room on his own two legs, even  _ with _ Bruce helping him. He tries to disguise it, but his frustration is too intense as he forces himself to exhale.

"Fine," he says. "But be careful."

"I'm always careful," Slade says as he scoops Jason up. "Now let's get you back to bed."

There's something painful about leaving his room behind again, but he cradles the eReader to his chest just the same, watching Bruce out of the corner of his eye.

Even as he and Slade leave, Bruce stays behind, staring at Jason's room, empty once again.


	5. Bruce Keeps an Eye Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Skipped a Few Steps' final chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features: Bruce Wayne, Slade Wilson, mentions of Jason, Roy, and the Arrows.  
> Warnings for: Bruce-typical paranoia.

Bruce doesn't even hear Slade coming, which is an alarmingly common occurrence. He's used to being the one sneaking up on people, so having someone sneak up on him has never quite sat right with him. But Slade's doing it more and more, so by the time Slade, with no warning at all, presses a kiss to the back of Bruce's neck he barely even jumps at all.

"God," Slade says, "I've ruined your reaction to danger."

"Probably," Bruce says, grabbing his thermos from beside him and taking a long drink of the tea Alfred made earlier that day.

Slade's eyes slip up to the screen, frowning almost immediately.

"...Is that Star City?" He asks.

Bruce doesn't react. He knew this was coming eventually.

"It is."

"Is that..." Slade squints at the red dot moving across the screen. "Are you  _ tracking _ Jason?"

"Of course," Bruce says. "What if something happened?"

Slade keeps right on squinting, his eye flicking down to Bruce himself.

"Do I want to know how?"

"Why do you think I gave him that new grapple gun?" Bruce says without hesitation.

Slade looks down at him for a long, long moment. His expression is impossible to read, his gaze fixed on Bruce's face.

Then he sits down, taking the seat beside Bruce.

"So," he says. "What's Jason doing now?"


	6. Denali Gets an Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Skipped a Few Steps' final chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features: Denali / William Randolph Wintergreen, Bruce Wayne, Slade Wilson.  
> Warnings for: Nothing in particular.

When he gets a letter in the mail addressed to Denali, he expects the worst. He knows how paranoid Slade is, and there's no doubt in his mind that Slade's set up at  _ least _ one drop-dead safeguard. If he stops making contact, someone will send a letter.

He is, as far as he knows, the only person Slade would send a letter to.

Which makes the fact that the contents of the letter are  _ a wedding invitation _ perhaps the most confusing seconds of his entire life. He's so confused he can only stare in numb shock at the invitation for several minutes.

Then he makes sure he clears his calendar and RSVPs.

He arrives at the wedding in a rented suit, and can't muster up the urge to pretend to be surprised when they frisk him for weapons. They don't find any, because he's  _ long _ since retired, but he appreciates the effort.

He recognizes everyone and no one once he's inside.

There's no one he can see that he actually  _ knows, _ but he recognizes a shocking number of the faces from TV. He knows who Bruce Wayne is in a very general sense, and the people who are supposed to surround them, but actually being in the same room as them is something else entirely.

There's a seat saved for him, and he settles in at the front row, completely alone.

He doesn't even get a chance to talk to Slade until the reception. He's in the middle of enjoying some hors d’oeuvres when Slade finally finds him, slapping him on the back, a wide smile on his face.

He hasn't seen Slade smile like that in a long, long time.

"Wintergreen," he says. "I wasn't sure if you could make it."

"I RSVPed," he points out. "I'm a man of my word."

Slade laughs at that.

"Invitation probably caught you off guard, didn't it?"

"To say the least," he says. "Did he tells you that he called me once?"

Slade grins at him without pause.

"He did," he says. "He said you called him the 'original model'."

"That's what he is," Wintergreen says pointedly. "Or are we not speaking about that?"

"Officially we're not," Slade says.

"Please tell me you're not  _ actually _ the new model."

"I'm not," Slade says. "My son is."

Wintergreen doesn't even try to hide his confusion.

"Joseph...?"

Slade shakes his head.

"I've adopted," he says. "My family's larger now."

"Your family had a population of one beforehand," Wintergreen points out, "so that's hardly surprising."

But he pauses and reconsiders, changing his mind.

"No," he admits. "It is surprising you'd do that. This is... quite a change for you. When you said that you were retiring, I assumed you were getting out of the life entirely, not... this."

He makes a gesture towards the room as a whole. The people there, strangers and  _ heroes. _

It's a far cry from what Slade used to do.

Bruce Wayne, the man who literally  _ just _ married Slade appears at his side. He's wearing a smile and seems every bit the man who made that ridiculous speech the year before. A businessman.

So completely not Slade's type that it's hard to reconcile the two. The only thing that helps is the knowledge that the businessman isn't  _ all _ Bruce Wayne is.

"Is this your guest?" Bruce asks, eyebrows going up. "William Randolph Wintergreen, assuming that isn't an alias?"

"That's his name," Slade says. "I knew him when I was young."

"And we've spoken before," Wintergreen says, offering a hand that Bruce shakes without question. "On the phone."

There's a flicker of recognition, and Bruce nods.

"Well," he says, "it's nice to finally meet the only person Slade keeps in touch with then."

"As much as he does," Wintergreen says pointedly. "Until I got the invitation, I hadn't heard from him in two years."

Slade at least has the presence of mind to look embarrassed.

"We don't often make social calls in our line of work," he admits.

Bruce looks less than amused.

"You have one friend who you invited to our wedding," Bruce says. "And you haven't spoken to him in  _ two years?" _

"I'm not exactly a talkative person," Slade says. "I didn't contact you while I was off on trips either."

"That was different," Bruce says. "You knew I'd be upset with you the entire call."

"I'd appreciate it," Wintergreen says, cutting in, "if you didn't fight over me. I was perfectly fine with our arrangement. Slade is an old friend and one of the few people I'd trust with my life, but I am  _ wonderfully _ aware of his social limitations."

"That's a very polite way of saying he knows I'm a jackass."

"Were a jackass," Bruce corrects. "You've improved. I wouldn't let you in my house if you hadn't."

Slade rolls his eye.

"You were hardly much better," he points out. "We've improved each other."

Something about that makes Bruce go red, which is a strange look for someone usually so self-assured.

"Try not to be a stranger," Bruce says after a moment, turning back to Wintergreen. "It'd be nice to hear some stories about Slade when he was younger."

"No it wouldn't," Wintergreen says. "I'm well aware of your... ah, taste for heroics. I doubt you'd approve of any story I had to tell."

"He has you there," Slade says. "But I'll call Wintergreen and check up more often if that will help things."

Bruce lets out a sigh, but doesn't argue. Probably because he knows they're both right.

"I need to go get Tim out of the desert table," Bruce says. "But it was nice meeting you."

He's off with only a quick nod.

"He seems nice," Wintergreen says. "How much does he know?"

He doubts it's much. He can't imagine Slade managed to hide that he was Deathstroke, but there's so  _ much. _ So many layers of secrets and crimes.

"Almost all of it," Slade says. "Enough. He knows what I am. Who I was."

Wintergreen just stares at him for a long moment, and then finally nods.

"And you love him."

Slade squints at him.

"Of course."

"I have to admit," Wintergreen says, "that a part of me did wonder if you were with him for his money. He  _ does _ seem to have a lot of it."

Slade looks genuinely offended, which is a look Wintergreen's never actually seen on him before.

"No," he says. "I'm not with him for his money. I do  _ actually _ love him."

"I've noticed," Wintergreen says. "You wouldn't have put up with half of that conversation if you didn't. Or the ceremony. Or getting married at all."

"He is..." Slade seems unfocused for a moment, literally lost for words. That's new too, and it strikes Wintergreen how much he's changed since they were last close. "Good. Good to me. Good  _ for _ me."

Wintergreen pauses for a moment, then lays a hand on Slade's shoulder.

"I know," he says. "Which is why we're not going to stay in contact. This was a one time thing. A glimpse. And we both know it."

He didn't when he came in. He didn't know enough to figure that out. But now? Now he knows. The invitation was a way for Slade to say  _ I'm better now. _

There's no room in his life for something that's only going to dredge up the path.

Slade looks at him for a moment, and then nods.

"But it'll be good to have you here," he finally says. "Just for the day. Enjoy it. Try the food."

It's just one day, but it's still a good one.


	7. Slade is a bad role model

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set two years before We Don't Raise Heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features: Slade Wilson, Cullen Row.  
> Warnings for: Homophobia, Canon-Typical Violence.

Slade definitely preferred patrolling down by the docks. The docks was Black Mask territory, and any patrol through there was almost  _ guaranteed _ to find a few low level crimes. Even if he didn't get to actually intervene, it was good information, and Jason had them all keeping tabs on what Mask was or wasn't doing.

But central Gotham? Gotham was a changed place. It had gone from a place people only walked if they were prepared to fight for their lives to a place where people just... well, walked around.

Which made for  _ very _ boring patrols. Nine times out of ten Slade would go right past Gotham University, turn down eighth street, and make it the entire ten blocks without seeing someone so much as jaywalking. And that tenth time?

That tenth time tended to be  _ really _ petty things. College students that were shitfaced and maybe needed help getting back to their dorms. Once, Slade had even stopped a mugging. But for the most part?

Really boring.

Boring to the point that Slade was fairly sure Jason was irritated at him, because it was the third straight patrol he'd ended up on the same route.

Maybe he shouldn't have laid Jason out like that in front of Tim and Dick. But that was what training was for, wasn't it?

He makes it two blocks past the university when he spots... something. A bunch of people clustering around someone in an alley, their body language aimed at blocking anyone from seeing anything from either end of the alley. Realistically speaking? If they were actually from Gotham (and not from out of town), they should have long ago learned to look up.

None of them so much as spare a glance towards the rooftops as Slade creeps down the fire escape for a better view.

He's only seeing the tops of people's heads, but he doesn't like it. No knives or guns, but there's six of them and only one of the guy they're cornering. His body language reads  _ scared. _ Their body language reads  _ aggressive. _

Even so, he sits and waits.

They've got a lot of choice words for him, and it's pretty clear what the  _ issue _ is. Someone calls him a fag, someone else says they saw him with a guy the other week, someone asks if they should help him get dates by letting the whole school know... etcetera, etcetera. Slade's heard it before. If anything, he supposes it's nice that it's just that. Things have come a  _ long _ goddamn way from where they were in his day.

So, as strange as it is, Slade holds tight. Batman and his team don't intervene in every case of bullying they see. And his particular brand of justice doesn't play well with a bit of verbal bullying.

And then things go darker  _ very _ quickly. Someone shoves the guy back against the wall. Someone says they should make absolutely sure everyone knows he's gay and pulls a knife.

Slade drops like a rock from the fire escape, perfectly silent. None of them see him coming.

Slade might, maybe, get a little excessive with the violence breaking things up. He tells himself it was because they were going to... what, carve a slur into the kid? He knows it probably has more to do with himself than anything else.

He  _ might _ be enjoying it a little bit too much as he breaks the guy with a knife's arm. A few swings of his arm lays out three of the others, and there's a mad, panicked scramble to get away. Slade lets them. This was something simple and basic and they'll  _ absolutely _ fucking think twice before trying it again. In Gotham, the walls have ears, and they know that now.

He stands still and lets them flee before turning his attention to their intended victim.

Oh hell. He knows the face, even if there's a lightly purpling bruise on one of his cheeks. It's older, he decides, which means this wasn't the first time.

"...T-thanks," Cullen says nervously, straightening up. Slade isn't sure how much he knows, but at the  _ very _ least he has to know Jason's identity.

"So tell me this," Slade says, the modulator in his helmet hiding his voice. "Why's a friend of J's letting himself get harassed rather than just asking him to help you out?"

Cullen looks embarrassed more or less immediately, which Slade expected was going to happen.

"I told him-" He falters, looking nervous again, "I told him I could handle it. It would look suspicious if Batman kept showing up to help."

"And could you handle it?"

Cullen is silent, eyes dropping.

"...No," he finally says.

"Then next time ask for help," Slade says. "This sort of thing-"

"I can't," he says, and his voice is  _ desperate. _ "He doesn't - if I report it -"

Slade turns what he knows over in his mind, inspecting the pieces until he figures out how they snap together.

"J doesn't know you're gay?"

Cullen's face absolutely  _ burns. _ There's no question that Slade's gotten it right on the money, which is absolutely ridiculous. He has a hard time believing that Jason hasn't noticed, but then... well, Jason doesn't exactly have a ton of experience in that field either.

"Please don't tell him," Cullen says. "I don't want him to-"

"Hold that thought right there," Slade says. "He's not going to ditch you or anything like that. He is definitely not going to care."

Slade doesn't  _ technically _ know that. Jason doesn't even know about  _ him. _ But the fact of the matter is that he's having a hard time imagining Jason being upset by a friend being gay, and acting confident about that fact matters more than whether or not he knows for certain.

"It still makes things different," he says. "He'll still..."

Cullen trails off, face going pale.

Oh goddamnit, he's going to have to do this, isn't he?

Slade shifts a bit, making sure no one's going to glance down the alley and see something they shouldn't, and snaps his faceplate up. Cullen's mouth forms a little  _ o _ of pure surprise, eyes going wide.

"You - you're his dad!"

Slade wrinkles his nose. He hadn't meant this to be an  _ identity reveal. _ He'd thought Cullen knew.

"Of course I am," he says. "How do you think I knew you were a friend of his?"

Cullen's gone from pale to  _ very _ embarrassed in short order.

"I thought..." He says, glancing awkwardly to the side, "I just assumed you guys shared information with each other on anyone who knows the truth."

"No," Slade says, "we don't. Everyone's allowed to have their own social circle and people who know about them. If he trusts you, we all trust you, problem solved."

Or more accurately,  _ problem gets dealt with when an actual problem comes up. _

"Oh," Cullen says. He's right back to not looking at Slade, which in retrospect...

Slade's starting to suspect it might not just be because he's intimidating.

"Listen," Slade says, "and this is, for the record, strictly between us. Just you and me. Not Jason, and not anyone else, got it?"

Cullen gives a quick glance up before nodding carefully. 

"Being gay doesn't change anything. You're still you, you still like the same stuff, you're still the same person. Anyone who thinks it does is telling you a lot more about themselves then they are about you."

Christ. He sounds like an after school special, and he knows it. But if giving him a lecture on  _ being Gay doesn't change a thing _ is what it takes to get him to start reaching out for help... well, so be it. Jason doesn't have enough friends as is, and the last thing he needs is for one of them to start avoiding him in order to keep a secret that doesn't need to be kept.

But Cullen's making that face. That face that reads  _ I don't really believe you _ or maybe  _ You're talking about something you don't understand. _ He can practically  _ see _ the thoughts bubbling up in Cullen's head, reminding him that Slade's just some old guy who has no idea what he's talking about, and it's definitely better to just keep his mouth shut.

"Trust me," Slade says, "having been in your position, the last thing you want to do is bottle things up and try and pretend to be something you're not. You'll just end up making a lot of stupid mistakes and making yourself miserable."

Only hopefully Cullen isn't going to run off and become a mercenary as a result.

Cullen's eyes flick up, the confusion and surprise written on his face as he connects the dots.

"Wait," he says. "You...?"

"Yep," Slade says, popping his p as he reaches up, snapping the faceplate back down. "Told myself I wasn't for about thirty years, but figured it wasn't something I could ignore eventually. Wouldn't recommend going down that path, personally."

"Does..." Cullen starts, and Slade already knows what he's about to ask. "Does J-"

"He does not," Slade says, "and you're not going to tell him. If it ever comes up with him, it'll be on his own terms."

Cullen quickly nods his head, making it clear he has no plans of crossing Slade.

"I need to get back on patrol," Slade says. "And  _ you _ need to go back to your university and report the guys who just pulled a knife on you."

He sees the hesitation. The moment of panic. And then it passes, pushed down by something else, and Cullen nods.

"Alright," he says. "I'll... I'll go do that."

Slade believes him, and he gives a quick nod before grappling up to the roof.

He shadows Cullen back to the university, just to make sure no one comes back for round two, and only gets back on patrol once he's safely inside.


	8. Amina gets mugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during the epilogue of Skipped a Few Steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features: Amina Franklin, Jason Todd.  
> Warnings for: Nothing in particular.

Gotham is a pretty safe place as of late, which is why when the hairs on the back of Amina's neck start to stand up she goes on high alert. Just because it's safer doesn't mean it's  _ safe, _ and she discreetly fishes for the can of mace in her purse.

Someone's definitely following her. She can  _ feel _ the eyes on her, and it feels like the farther she walks, the more blatant it gets. What was Jason's advice? Go for well lit areas. Head for crowds.

Except it's two in the morning, she just finished a long shift at work, and her car is in a shitty parking garage two blocks away.

Even worse: The streetlight just up ahead is burnt out, plunging the whole area into almost total darkness.

She swallows and spares a glance over her shoulder, only just catching sight of something before it vanishes again.

Alright. This is definitely bad. She tries to discreetly grab her phone, because even if Jason is too injured to help, he can send someone, when her stalker stops being  _ well behind her _ and starts being  _ right behind her. _

She spins and maces them in the face.

Generally the reaction to getting mace sprayed in your eyes is screaming. Instead, a hand swipes up, catching her wrist and squeezing until she drops the can.

She is boned. She is so-

Are they wearing a helmet?

Amina goes still, squinting at the figure, taking it all in. It's not a costume she knows. It's more a dark reddish-brown where most of the others are pure black, a full-face helmet keeping her mace from having an effect, but overall? It's got the same  _ aesthetics _ as the rest of the bats. Similar materials. Similar designs. Which means...

"Jason, you  _ absolute asshole," _ she hisses. "I thought I was about to be murdered."

The figure reaches up, tapping the helmet to release the faceplate, and Jason grins out at her.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" She asks, which isn't true because she  _ absolutely knows _ he's supposed to be in bed.

"We've been trying some experimental stuff," Jason says. "So I'm ready to go a bit early. Expect me to keep acting good and sick for a while to make sure no one suspects."

"What's with the costume?" She asks, glancing down to the new outfit. "Not very... batty."

Jason rolls his eyes.

"New name," he says. "Batman's retired, remember?"

"So what are you... mud-boy? What's with all the brown?"

"Dark browns can be better for camouflaging then blacks," Jason points out, sounding defensive. "Solid black gives you a clear silhouette, and lights you up white on infrared. The only reason the others still use black is because Bat-prime's too dramatic for anything else."

Amina rolls her eyes at that.

"So what's the name?"

"Raptor," Jason says, grinning in a way that shows his teeth.

"I swear," she says, "you're so  _ dramatic. _ Your whole family."

"Raised by an actor," Jason says. "Want me to walk you to your car?"

"Is  _ that _ what you were doing?" She says, not at all convinced. "Because it seemed more like you were trying to sneak up on me to scare me."

Jason doesn't answer, which tells her  _ exactly _ what she needs to hear.

"Fine," she says. "You can walk me to the car. But do not—I swear to god—do  _ not _ sneak up on Harper or Cullen. Harper will break your neck by accident and Cullen will probably have a heart attack and die."

"I'm not that mean," Jason says, snapping the face-plate back down. "You're the only one who'd put up with it."

Well, he's not  _ entirely _ wrong. 


	9. Jason visits Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the epilogue of Skipped a Few Steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features: Jason Todd, Rose Wilson, Amanda Waller.  
> Warnings for: Nothing in particular.

Jason doesn't like Amanda Waller, but that's hardly something unique to him. As far as he can tell,  _ no one _ likes Amanda Waller. Not even Amanda Waller herself.

Which is unfortunate, because she's doing absolutely nothing to make herself more friendly or approachable. When Jason reaches the front of Belle Reve he's greeted by her scowl, and it doesn't leave her face the entire time he's with her. He already knows what to expect in general terms, but he's wary of having no weapons while around Waller.

The only reason he trusts her not to toss him into a cell is because he knows the absolute  _ shoitstorm _ that it would cause. Bruce is too public to take any direct action against him, even if she  _ does _ know who he is.

Or was. He's not really Batman anymore, and he doubts she knows about Raptor. The family has too many members for her to nail down identities without actually going to Gotham, and Bruce has firmly kept her out.

"Do I need to explain the rules?" Waller says as she walks him through the prison. He's got a big bracelet practically shackled to his wrist, a lime green that hopefully means  _ not a prisoner. _

"No," he says. "We're being recorded, don't touch the prisoner, don't raise your voice, don't tamper with the cameras... and so on. Did I miss anything important?"

"No," Waller says.

Jason isn't sure who exactly twisted Waller's arm into allowing the meeting. It might have been Bruce, but Jason's also equally convinced it might have been Steve Trevor. It  _ is _ his job to handle discussion between the DEO and ARGUS.

The door to the interrogation room slides open, and Waller gestures for him to head inside.

The woman's already there, her wrists cuffed to the table, and her ankles in much the same position. It's the first time he's seen her, and even so it's impossible to deny the family resemblance. Same eyes. Same pure-white hair.

The missing eye adds to the effect, covered by the same old-style eyepatch that Slade used to wear. Even if it's the opposite eye of Slade, it makes the similarities impossible to ignore.

He steps inside and the door closes behind him. She stares at him, scrutinizing every inch of him, and Jason feels like a cut of meat being inspected before purchase. He hangs by the door for a moment, taking it in, and then finally heads over to the table, taking a seat opposite her.

"Rose," he says. "Right?"

She stares at him, wearing the same scowl Slade always used to. He scowls less lately.

"Jason Todd," she says.

"No," he says. "Jason Wilson-Wayne now."

There's a flicker of rage across her face. Disgust, maybe. She's feeling a lot of different emotions all at once and they're clashing in the worst of ways.

"Why are you here?" She says, and Jason makes himself take a deep breath.

"I wanted to talk to you," he says. "We never spoke. If things had gone differently, you'd have been... well, my sister."

It seems sad to Jason, that possibility. That he might have had a sister. Slade's told him what he knows, but even that isn't much. A false story by her mother. A quest for revenge that didn't need to be carried out in the first place.

"We're not siblings," she says. "If I'd been with him, he never would have adopted you."

He doubts that she's heard much about what's happening. Does she know about the wedding? About the Justice League?

"He might have," Jason says. "But life's weird like that. You never know."

She looks away, silent, and Jason clears his throat.

"I just wanted to meet you properly. To... I don't know, get to know you. Bruce says you've been well behaved, so you might still get out-"

"When I'm forty," she says. "If that. Probably closer to fifty."

"You might get out sooner than that," Jason says. He wonders if she's been picked up for Task Force X missions. They're not supposed to be happening, but that doesn't mean they're not. "Do you still hate him?"

There's no question between them who the  _ him _ is. There's only one him it could be, and she's silent for a moment.

"No," she finally says. "I hate my mother for lying to me. For letting me throw my life away for a lie."

"She was probably trying to help," Jason says, picking his words carefully. "She was probably just... trying to make sure things were okay with you."

She growls at him, showing teeth like an animal, and Jason doesn't feel scared. No, the only thing he feels is pity. He doesn't know how he'd be if he'd was arrested. If he had to sit in the same cell all day long.

No, that's wrong: He knows how he'd be. He wouldn't make it. He'd be out of his mind in the span of a few hours. The only reason he's doing as well as he is in this particular locked room is the knowledge that he can knock on the door and leave at any time.

Rose doesn't have that option.

"I was thinking we could be penpals," he says. It was Damian's idea, when he first brought up the idea of visiting.

"Why would I want a penpal?" Rose asks. For once she doesn't look angry. Just... confused.

"I mean," Jason says pointedly, "you're alone in here. I know you've got basically no contact with the outside world. I know  _ I'd _ be lonely-"

"I'm not you," she snaps. "I don't need your pity."

Jason is pretty sure she does. He's struggling to imagine the isolation.

"It's not pity," he says, trying to say what he would have wanted to hear. "It's empathy. I know what it's like to be... to be locked up."

God, he doesn't want to talk about it. Especially not where  _ Waller _ can hear.

She stares at him, scrutinizing his reaction. Looking for a lie, he guesses, but she isn't going to find one.

Finally, she grunts, and Jason adds that to the  _ things she does that are just like Slade _ pile in his mind.

"Fine," she says. "You can write. I'm making no promises about writing back."

"Didn't think you would," he says.

Rose stares at him, scrutinizing, and Jason gets the impression she's trying to work up to something. A question? Asking after Slade?

"Are you doing better?" She finally asks, which isn't at  _ all _ what he was expecting. Maybe he should have. It's the obvious question.

"I'm healed, yeah," he says. "Takes more than that to kill me."

Another overly familiar grunt.

A part of Jason keeps waiting for her to ask. For her to say  _ Is he happy?  _ Or maybe  _ Does he forgive me? _

She doesn't. He spends another twenty minutes making small talk, and she never once mentions Slade. She even once briefly asked about  _ Bruce, _ but not Slade.

The idea of it—that she won't even speak his name—hurts him in a way he has a hard time putting into words.

It's not until the next week during a session with his therapist that he finally finds the words for it: He longs for what might have been. For the family he might have had. But more than that: For the family  _ she _ might have had if things had gone differently.


End file.
